


Powerless (Kylo Ren & Reader Fan Fiction)

by ShesJustAnotherGeek



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Rise of Kylo Ren (Comics)
Genre: Alpha Kylo Ren, Blood and Gore, Blow Jobs, Blow Jobs With Teeth, Bondage, Captivity, Dominant Kylo Ren, Dubious Consent, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Face Slapping, Face-Fucking, Facials, Forced Masturbation, Forced Orgasm, Forced Relationship, Inappropriate Use of Lightsabers, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Jedi, Jedi Code (Star Wars), Kidnapping, Kylo Ren Angst, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Kylo Ren Needs a Hug, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Lightsaber Used as a Sex Toy (Star Wars), Lightsabers, Machiavelli, Malicious Kylo Ren, Mind Control, Mind Games, Mind Manipulation, Mindfuck, Oral Sex, POV Second Person, Poor Life Choices, Possessive Kylo Ren, Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Punishment, Reader-Insert, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sex, Sexual Abuse, Sexual Content, Sexual Slavery, Star Wars - Freeform, Strong Female Characters, The Force, Torture, Vaginal Sex, Wet & Messy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:09:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27402526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShesJustAnotherGeek/pseuds/ShesJustAnotherGeek
Summary: In the year before The Force Awakens you are a Representative of the New Republic. While serving the term you're called to an Outer Rim planet for a trade agreement, but nothing goes as planned. The First Order ambushes the New Republic meeting and takes you as a hostage.While imprisoned The First Order soon realizes that you're not a Representative to be trifled with and do everything in their power to get want they want. Your resolve never falters until Commander Kylo Ren is sent.☆☆☆☆This story depicts great lengths of graphic violence, psychological and sexual torture, dubious consent, and mature content.
Relationships: Kylo Ren & You, Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/You
Kudos: 14





	1. The Mission

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is kinda a test runner to see if this fic is something I would enjoy writing. It was this idea I had stuck in my head of this really sick, twisted, and fucked up fanfic, showing the sexual and monstrous side of Kylo Ren. Imagine Fix Your Attitude but with more violence and psychological abuse. Yeah, really sick.

The sheer dress flows in the wind as heels reverberate on the golden walls, hands filled with paper and datapad. A ring packs the air, reminding you of your position. You set the device in your palm as the blue hologram illuminates your features.

"Hello Representative Nine, how are you today," Senator Bane respectfully asks.

"Not bad Senator, you?"

"Wonderful. Did you receive the message for your conflict with the Outer Rim Quadrant?"

"Yes, Senator, it's the Batonn-sector, correct?"

"That was the original plan, but they have decided to postpone it and discuss it with their leaders," she tells.

"Oh," you answer surprised, "then do I have a new mission, ma'am?"

"Yes, we've been in the works with starting a new trade agreement with Abafar regarding fuel for the New Republic ships." You continue walking to your office.

"All right, when will I be going?"

"In one rotation," Bane responds. The clacking of your footwear comes to a halt as you gawk at the azure pixels.

"This is very short notice."

"Yes, the Chancellor, and I wanted to get this done as soon as possible. We don't want them to change their minds."

"I understand," you say formally, "I'll be at the docking bay early."

"Perfect," she replies and the blue hologram shrinks into nothing.

You huff as the entry to your office opens. Stacks of documents fly off your desk and onto the ground. Leia Organa stands with an expression only a mother could give.

"Hello." Your name sounds warm in her mouth. You can't help but smile.

"Leia, I'm so glad to see you." Your voice goes up in pitch.

"The air in Corosaunt is very smoggy today," Leia says sounding rehearsed. It's a code. Your brain switches from polite Representative to rebellion organizer.

"But the air in the underworld is worse," you reply. Telling her she is safe to talk.

"I heard your purpose changed last minute."

"Yes, it did. I'm sure you had nothing to do with that." Chuckles spew out, leaving the environment comfortable.

"We have intel that the First Order is in works with the committee of Abafar for their Rhydonium." All the friendliness is gone and left with tones of seriousness.

"And you wanted to get to them first and supply fuel for the Rebel Fleet."

"You're smarter than you look, Nerf Herder," Leia jokes.

"How reliable is that intel of yours, General?"

"More reliable than the people in the Senate." You raise your eyebrows and tilt your origin in response, beginning to pick up your records. "You're going to be leaving in an hour." You lift your shoulders and purse your lips.

"An hour," you screech and she laughs. "There's no time for us to talk then! I have to go home and get equipped!"

"Well, then, I'll see you, Representative Nine." Dropping the papers in your digits you run past Leia. As you do she grabs your arm. "We are the spark that will light the rebellion-"

"And burn the First Order to the ground," finishing her sentence. Leia's wrinkly fingers gently rest on your cheek and you lean in, embracing her maternal tenderness.

"You look just like your mother." Her eyes soften. "Please, be careful." A warm grin graces your lips as you both go into a hug.

"You look just like a princess," you whisper in her ear. You release and strides begin again.

Strands of hair ripped out from your bun, slapping across your skin as the ship lands on the dock. An expression of stone plastered on your face. The platform lowers and you feel the vibration in your soul. Senator Bane walks towards you and places a private communicator in your hand. Eyebrows scrunching up in confusion.

"This is off the books. We can't have any First Order sympathizers hearing about this," she says carefully.

"Understood, Senator. See you in five rotations," you respond cheerfully.

"Representative Nine," a male voice shouts over the engine, "the shuttle is ready." Grabbing your belongings your board as the man presses a button and shuts the door.

"How long is it to Abafar?"

"Why? Are you in a rush Representative," he asks. You give a disapproving glare.

"No, I just want to know how far it is. I've never been there before." The man laughs nervously, trying to de-escalate the mood.

"Aww, don't worry, it's just a few parsecs."

"What's your name? I assume you're the pilot."

"Yes, I'm flying this hunk of metal. My name is Cen." You extend your grasp.

"It's nice to meet you Cen," you exchange formalities as he takes it. "If I may ask, why are you the only crew member? Normally there's a need for more people to maintain a ship."

"Well, normally yes, but..." Cen takes out his left fist, showing a ring with fire like symbol.

"You're Resistance. That makes sense. I don't know why I didn't realize that sooner." You chuckle awkwardly as your cheeks get hot.

"Yeah, no worries Miss. This operation is on late notice so we couldn't have a full crew." A tense silence lays in the pressurized vessel, feeling as if you're already in the sky.

"Well, I'll go to the cabin and settle for the time being."

"Okay. It's just down the hallway to the right. You can't miss it," Cen says. Nodding you walk in the direction told.

You press the key opening the metallic door and step in. There's a single cot with a grey sheet folded at the edge and a small ceiling light above. You throw your luggage to the side and flop on the mattress, letting out a breath. Feet beginning to ache from hours of work, your toes meet the back of your shoes and flip them off. They land with a clunk. You sit up, taking out the pins in your locks. They fall on your shoulders, sending soothing tingles down your spine. You clear the stress out of your limbs, letting your body relax. Bringing your legs up on the cot you wrap yourself in the wool blanket and close your optics.

With a jolt, the ship going out of light speed wakes you up. You rise, yawning and rubbing the tiredness from your pupils. The steel door slides open, revealing Cen's orange uniform. He stares at you, seemingly taken aback by your lack of professional features. You return the look sarcastically.

"Yes," you say in a sing-song voice. Cen swallows spit you didn't realize he was carrying.

"Umm... M' lady, you seem to have- uh." Unable to finish his sentence he turns around and snaps his boots together as if he's going to attention.

"Cen?" You strut over, feeling a breeze across your chest. "Oh." The surprise that was on his face has now made its way to yours as you see your breast peaking out of your gown. Every vein fills with ice while your skin becomes scorching, creating a mixture of icey- hot shame. Quickly, you spin, feeling as if you're naked, and shove it back into your clothes. Taking air you break the awkwardness. "Let's pretend you never saw my tit, okay? For both our sakes. Even though it's probably the best damn one there is." Cen peaks over his joint, seeming to get a glimpse of you once more. Suddenly, the embarrassment is gone and fill with something else. Confidence. You take a few steps towards him. "You can turn around." You wonder if he's ever seen a woman before, let alone a woman with your power. "Do you want to see more?" Your voice changes to one of satin.

"Uh- Representative, I don't think that's appropriate," he replies shaken.

"Why not?"

"You're a member of the New Republic government. I can't be seen with someone of that much importance- like- with- her." Cen's words sputter out. A sly smile creeps on your lips.

"Whether who I am or not doesn't matter. A title does not change who I am. I am just a girl. A girl who happens to represent a whole district of people, but that's beside the point." Your smile is more genuine now as you put a palm on his back, facing him. Your noses inches apart. His eyes flicker to your lips, only for a moment, but you see it. Your fingers interlock in his hair. "Power means nothing when it's just us." Your tongue grazes his mouth, causing Cen's breath to hitch as he pulls you close.

Grabbing your bag you pull a new outfit. A lavender jumpsuit with a golden necklace sewn into the collar, the insignia of the Abafar people shining in the artificial light. It exposes half your biceps before coming together around your middle finger. Hopefully, your knowledge of the patriotism in their sector will be a point for the New Republic. You go to the refresher with your toiletries in tow. Your reflection permits you to become the presentable Republic Representative Number Nine.

Cen had never been with a woman like you before, but he seemed to know what he was doing, finding the right spots and all. You wonder if Resistance members ever have sex. Do they even have enough time? Every day you've gone to the base they've always been working, fixing, and drafting. Never taking a moment to rest. As long as there are people like the First Order, the Resistance will never die. Together, with them, they are an eternal flame, never dying out, always surviving even when covered. Leia would never let anyone have their personal feelings overshadow the cause. It's too important. The future of the galaxy is in the hands of organizations.

You finish putting the pale lipstick on, forgetting about your endeavors with Cen-- Only focusing on the task at hand. Regaining all the strength and power you tossed away. Strutting to the cockpit you sit down on Cen's lap as he tenses.

"Representative Nine, we have a co-pilot seat," he jests.

"I know. I prefer this one though," you explain sultrily.

"Oh. And why is that?" He nuzzles his face into your neck.

"Because this one is warm and hard and I can please it." You feel Cen's cock harden as you begin stroking it through his jumpsuit. "It's only been thirty minutes and you already want me." His throat bobs.

"Well, you're a very convincing Representative."

"Then, I should have no problem convincing these Abafarians of sharing their fuel to us." You hop off his lap teasingly, making sure to flash a smirk.

"Better buckle up Rep, we're landing." You give a mock salute.

"Yes, sir."

The planet's dry environment comes into view and the ship bounces as you start to enter the atmosphere. The architecture complements the desolate ground below. Waterless sand flies into the air as the craft lowers onto the white landing pad. Only four people show to the area as the legs release from the bottom and make contact. With bags in tow, Cen and you walk to the platform as air comes out of the hinges, revealing the arid climate.


	2. The Preparation

The Abafarians come into view. Their peach skin and striped head tentacles appear grosser in person, but you push those thoughts down and put on your professionalism. The four of them bow, extending their three fingers in greeting.

"Good day, Representative Number Nine. How were your travels," a male voice asks.

"It was delightful, especially thanks to our dear pilot." A smile plasters itself on your face, the meaning hidden. Cen shifts awkwardly.

"That is pleasing to hear." He swings an arm out, offering it to you. "Shall we escort you to your room?" You bow your head in response picking up your luggage but the man stops you. "Please, allow me."

The councilmen lead you out of the sun and into the sand-colored building. Their tentacles sway back and forth with each step. With Cen walking beside, you look to him, both grimacing at the disgusting attributes. The sharp contrast of the indoors compared to the out surprises you. The outside primitive while the inside is the peek of modern technology. Exquisite mineral doors, divine silver walls, and state of the art cleaning droids. How could such a desolate planet with little to no inhabitants be gifted with this much finery? They have barely any credits to their name and they can afford this. Their government is begging for currency from their Rhydonium, that is literally the reason why they came to you with a trade agreement, to begin with. The New Republic and The Resistance know how many credits they need and are willing to supply it, and the Abafarians know how much we need their fuel. The peach beings all stop in unison as you reach a shiny door and one types in the keypad next to it, revealing the extravagant room. Your jaw drops in awe. A feeling a dread washes over your organs.

"Here it is ma'am," an Abafarian dressed in robes says as he places your bag down. His voice has a calm sinister tone to it, causing suspicion in the back of your mind. Paying no heed you and Cen enter and the metal slab swishes closed behind you both. Quickly turning around you face him.

"Something is off here, Pilot," you express with concern.

"Oh. So the creepy tentacles hanging off their heads weren't concern enough," he jokes loudly. You put a finger to his lips, shushing him.

"Cen," you hiss, "they could still be out there. Don't ruin this shit for me, okay? You need this meeting to go just as well as me so both get what they want." He groans silently.

"I'm not wrong," he whispers. You breathe through your nose in agreement nodding your head.

"Yes, but that's not what I'm talking about. This-," you move around, "This doesn't make any sense." His eyebrows crease. "From what I've read these people-- this planet-- is bankrupt. How in the universe were they able to inquire about all the equipment and new technology. Some of the stuff here is better than what we have at the senate building. They needed to make a deal with someone for this to happen." You halt your words, realizing what this must mean. "The First Order." Pacing across you say, "That has to be the reason."

"But that means they've met months ago, maybe even years." Cen sounds just as shocked as you.

"We need to tell the Republic." Rushing over to your luggage you dig through them, desperately trying to find the private com Senator Bane gave you. A spewing of curses falls from your mouth as you dump out each bag. "It has to be here."

"What are you looking for," he questions as your belongings fly in the air.

"A coms link," you shout exasperated. "I can't find it. I swear to the stars that I put it in my stuff. There's so possible way that it could have fallen out." The metallic door swishes open and the head councilman appears with his hands clasped. 

"We are ready to begin the discussion, Representative Nine." You plaster on a fake smile, glancing at Cen for a moment as he silently unbuckles his holster, and follow. As you walk by he hands it to you, showing how to turn the safety off wordlessly and you stuff it in a small hand bag. You had tucked away in your luggage.


End file.
